Scarlet Executioner vs Silver Princess: Miyaka Jin (d) vs Noelle Silva

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It was over. Noelle had Miyaka completely and utterly dominated beyond anything that the rookie could come back from. As she felt her opponent start to slow down in her resistance, Noelle called behind her, "You want to tap out on my ass, or fall asleep to it?" This time, Miyaka was reacting how people were supposed to react to being so physically dominated. That meant she was out of tricks. That meant this was over.

As Miyaka's resistance slowed to a stop as her body started to twitch, it looked like Miyaka would choose a KO over submitting. Noelle was tempted to let her breathe, and then start crushing her throat again. Refusing to KO her until Miyaka finally broke and tapped out. Noelle wanted to do it. But it would be the kind of careless, overconfident garbage that the rookie had been trying to bait her into this whole time, that Noelle had been so careful to avoid. She wouldn't stop at the last moment. Instead, Noelle kept squeezing until Miyaka went limp, and the referee called the match.

Only now did Noelle revel in her triumph, that the bell had rung to call her the winner. She rose to her feet, one on either side of Miyaka's body, and raised her fist to the crowd.

[Mac&Cheese]

The crushing, suffocating darkness closed in fast, but the blinding agony from Noelle’s twisting grip held Miyaka hostage at the very edge of consciousness. She didn't get the peaceful escape of passing out. Every nerve ending screamed in agonizing clarity as her lungs burned for air that never came.
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Hearing Noelle’s smug taunt echo through the smothering heat was the final, devastating blow. Miyaka—a hardened, deadly assassin trained to endure the unthinkable—was completely broken. Not just defeated, but utterly, systematically humiliated by a wrestler who had treated her body like a playground.
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The terrifying realization crashed over her fading mind: she had no moves left. No secret techniques, no tactical counters. She was entirely at the mercy of the Spaniard's crushing frame. Panic and profound shame seized her chest. With the last microscopic thread of strength left in her failing body, Miyaka’s trembling hand reached up.
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Tap. Tap. Tap.

Her palm slapped weak, frantic rhythm against Noelle’s heavy thigh.
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The bell chimed loudly through the arena, declaring the end of the match, but the ring of finality sounded like a death knell in Miyaka's ears. The crushing weight finally lifted, and air rushed back into her lungs in a harsh, agonizing gasp.
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As Noelle stood tall over her, triumphantly raising a fist to the roaring crowd, Miyaka stayed collapsed on her side. She couldn't even bring herself to look up. Sweat-drenched bangs hid her face as she stared hollowly at the canvas, a violent, burning flush of shame painting her cheeks. The assassin who was supposed to be a ghost, a lethal force, had just been forced to tap out directly against her opponent's body.
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A single, bitter shudder ran through Miyaka's chest. Overwhelmed by the crushing defeat, the lingering heat of unwanted arousal, and the sheer humiliation of it all, she curled inward, trapped in the dark spiral of her own shattered pride.